


bring it on top of me

by seventhstar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alien Biology, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Tentacle Dick, What Was I Thinking?, please heed the warnings, vector being a shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bekunasch tentacle dick smut. i mean, there's a tiny bit of plot, but...yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bring it on top of me

Vector leans into him from behind, and Nasch sighs and tries, half-heartedly, to shrug him off. Even since their gems started reacting to one another, Vector has been insufferable. He won’t go away, he won’t shut up, and he won’t stop touching Nasch. Resonance isn’t something neither of them can control — none of them really understand why their Barian forms sometimes have such strong reactions to one another.

Nasch is not sure what Vector wants from him, besides sex and the opportunity to murder Nasch in his sleep. It’s hard to tell with Vector; he seems simple, but his brain is always whirring, always calculating, and Nasch never lets himself be lulled into security with him. Vector is not safe.

Vector’s hand slides up under his shirt, fingers groping at his chest. He’s got warm hands. Nasch can tell without looking he’s smirking into Nasch’s shoulder; _smug little bastard,_ he thinks, but he lets Vector continue.

“Na-asch,” Vector says in a sing-song voice.

“I’m working.” Nasch is working. They have to find the Numbers, and quickly, before the Astrals catch up with them. They can only hide out in the human world unseen for so long before one of the humans links the Barian Lords with their human appearances. Even Nasch and Merag, who have real identities that can stand up to scrutiny, will inevitably be found out.

Something has to be done, and if Vector really wanted to Nasch to let him touch him he would hel — no. No. Nasch isn’t going to negotiate with Vector about sex. That won’t end well. He stares at the maps; somewhere, there is a pattern, and when he understands the pattern he will understand what it is they need to do.

“You should relax, Naschy,” Vector coos. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll collect the Numbers from Astral all by myself.”

“Is that why you’ve collected absolutely nothing in the past two months, Vector?” Nasch taps the map. “Merag was more productive than you even when she was in a coma.”

“And if I told you I knew who the Astral Emissary was?”

Nasch freezes mid-movement, and then he schools himself. Vector is a consummate liar, he reminds himself. He continues working, ignoring Vector’s other hand as it too slips under his shirt.

Vector’s fingers are warm. Nasch doesn’t think about that, though.

“If you knew that, you wouldn’t be here pawing at me.” Nasch traces Kaito’s path through the city again. “So you don’t know, do you?”

“Maybe I just want you to appreciate all my hard _work_ , Nasch.”

“What hard work, Vector?”

Vector squeezes him. Nasch can feel Vector’s breath against his ear, but he doesn’t tense or flinch. Vector vanishes for weeks at a time, and when he shows up he knows everything the others have done, but he never says where he’s been, or what he’s been up to. If Nasch didn’t know that Vector loathed order, he would have suspected Vector of working for the other side.

Which doesn’t mean that Vector isn’t betraying them; just that Nasch has to find out who Vector is betraying them for.

“I’ve been going to school like a good little boy, of course.”

Nasch frowns. What does Vector mean, school, unless…there have been fewer incidents with the Astrals during the daytime, in the morning and early afternoon. If the Emissary is hosted by a younger human, then that would explain the timing.

“They’re a student?”

“His name is Yuuma,” Vector purrs. “Yuuma Tsukumo, first year. Heartland Academy. He’s a sweet, naive, soft-hearted thing…you’d like him.”

“Just a child?” Nasch can’t understand why the Astral would choose a human who was so limited. Adults had money and transport and the means to disappear; children were watched more carefully. Nasch himself wished that his human persona was older, if only because he and Merag had to make their excuses to the schools to explain away their absences. “Why?”

Vector cackles. Nasch can feel him shaking against his back, mouth touching his neck as he laughs. “Because the Astral Emissary doesn’t have a choice. He’s forgotten everything about the war, about the Barians, about his purpose. He’s _helpless._ ”

“Helpless,” Nasch repeats, and he hates to think he and Vector have anything in common besides some unfortunate resonance and their species, but he can’t help himself: the corners of his mouth turn up at the ends. If the Astral doesn’t remember and he’s dependent on a child to survive, that means that the rest of the hunters in this city are mere humans. It means that if they defeat him, they can collect the rest of the numbers at their leisure.

He doesn’t relish having to attack someone so young, but it’s better than the prospect of an all-out war.

“He goes out to the piers to have private dueling practice with Astral on Fridays.”

“That’s tomorrow.”

“Plenty of time, ne, Nasch?” Vector bites him on the neck and Nasch jumps before he can stop himself. It doesn’t really hurt, but it’s wet and unexpected and it sends all the blood in Nasch’s body downward, which is…problematic.

“We should meet with the others.”

“We should celebrate,” Vector counters, and he must be changing because he’s suddenly taller, his weight more pronounced, the points of his nails scraping lightly against Nasch’s skin. One of Vector’s gems is pressed right in along Nasch’s spine, hot with energy, and Nasch can feel an answering thrum of power in his weak human body.

They alternate patrols, and Alit and Gilag have their own base, so there’s no one here in Nasch’s apartment but he and Vector. No one is expected for at least a few hours, unless there’s an emergency…and if Vector is telling the truth, it’s late enough that there won’t be.

_If_ Vector is telling the truth.

“Prove it,” Nasch says. His voice is raspier than he would like. “Yuuma Tsukumo?”

Vector makes an annoyed noise, but he grabs Nasch’s crest with his hands, squeezing the central gem inset in the center, and Nasch is awash in the waves of Vector’s memories — Rei Shingetsu clinging to Yuuma’s arm, a white and blue Astral floating above him, the Key hanging around his neck. Nasch slumps a little in relief, ignoring the twinge of his pride at letting Vector take his weight; even Vector can’t lie to Nasch during soul-to-soul contact.

“Come on, Nasch,” Vector says. He nuzzles Nasch now that he doesn’t have teeth to bite with. “Reward me.”

“Fine.” Nasch barely gets the words out before Vector grabs him by the waist, hoists him over his shoulder, and starts carrying him bodily towards the bedroom. “Vector!”

Vector slaps his ass, which is so infuriating that by the time Nasch can actually speak again he’s being dumped on his bed and Vector is crawling onto him. He shreds Nasch’s shirt with his claws, drags off his pants and underwear so quickly that Nasch is worried Vector will cut him somewhere delicate, and then he’ll have to murder him, and they’ll be down a Lord before they ever face the Astrals. With Vector atop him, heavy and stony and snickering as he touches Nasch, there’s not much Nasch can do except complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shhh,” Vector says absently. He’s feeling along Nasch’s ribs, down his chest, over his stomach. Nasch is still wearing the crest around his neck, the stone glowing brightly, and Vector rubs it ever so often. Every time he does, Nasch squirms, the Barian sensation overloading his delicate human body, and he’s aware of Vector eying him while Nasch bites his lip to suppress any sound that might give him away.

“You do know how humans have sex, rig—”

Vector cuts him off by dragging his legs apart, and it’s only then that Nasch feels the slap of Vector’s tentacle dick against his thighs. It’s slimy, and leaves a warm wet trail against his legs, up the inside of his thigh, right up against his entrance.

Nasch tenses, expecting Vector to take him right then, but instead Vector sits back.

“Get up here,” he says, and Nasch raises an eyebrow — who the hell does Vector think he is — before he sits up and absently smears the slime along his thigh.

“Excuse me?”

“Nasch,” Vector says. His tentacle is twitching, and it’s huge, and Nasch doesn’t know whether the curl in his stomach is anticipation or fear. Either way, he’s not going to let Vector intimidate him.

He scoots up into Vector’s lap, legs crossed around Vector’s waist. “Well?”

The word is barely out of his mouth before Vector shoves into him, hard, and even with the thick slime it hurts and Nasch has to muffle himself against Vector’s armored shoulder. He scrabbles for a hold on Vector’s body, and he doesn’t really want to hold onto Vector and give him that satisfaction but —

— _ah, fuck, there it is_ , Nasch thinks as Vector stretches him open, his tentacle wider and wider with every inch he stuffs into Nasch. It burns, and it stings, and Nasch is still hard and flushed and panting as Vector holds him still while he tries to get all the way in.

Vector’s grip is going to leave bruises, because Nasch can’t help but squirm.

“Done already, Nasch?” Vector asks. “And I’m not even halfway in…but maybe you can’t take it.”

“Why are you talking?”

Not even halfway. Nasch already feels like he can’t take a single inch more, but then again Vector’s tentacle is wiggling around inside him and it’s rubbing him in places that make shocks of pleasure shoot up his spine and _fuck,_ he isn’t going to let Vector win.

Which, Nasch has the presence of mind to realize, is probably what Vector was counting on all along — and then Vector starts trying to push into him again and all coherent thought leaves him.

There’s nothing he can do except clinging to Vector and try (and fail) to not moan and arch every time Vector’s grip tightens and he’s forced down. He doesn’t think he can take anymore, he keeps thinking that, and yet Vector _is_ taking him, right here, opening him up wider and wider.

He knows the moment Vector bottoms out, though, every last bit of him inside Nasch, because Vector cackles again and _moves._ Nasch crumples against his chest, and none of his muscles will cooperate enough to get him upright, and he rests his forehead on Vector’s shoulder, concentrates on the faint pain of Vector’s fingers dug into hi hips, whimpers.

“Nasch,” Vector says, mockingly, and then he starts to pull out and Nasch doesn’t even have the strength to brace himself.

He holds weakly to Vector while Vector fucks him. He trembles, and he mewls whenever Vector is particularly forceful. Nasch comes first, humiliatingly, with his arms around Vector’s neck, and then he just hangs there while Vector finishes.

While Vector uses his limp body to get off, really, and only the fact that he’s still shaking and wrecked with pleasure keeps him from snarling and possibly doing Vector bodily harm. When Vector finally comes, the flood of slime inside Nasch is hot and sticky, and it drips out of him. He’ll have to wash the covers later.

Later, when he’s not a wet, fucked open mess.

Vector pushes him back onto the bed, on his back, and smears the slime over his stomach and thighs and ass. It shines in the dull light of the light fixture overhead. Nasch should probably protest, but his mouth, like the rest of him, has betrayed him.

Vector shifts back to human form. He looks pristine and irritating.

“You should rest, Nasch,” he breathes, and be leans over and kisses Nasch on the mouth. “You don’t want to be too sore during tomorrow’s battle.”

Nasch is pretty sure he’s going to be sore for the rest of his life. He snarls at Vector as Vector turns out the light, smirking, and leaves.

The bastard doesn’t even close the door. Nasch will have to get up and do it himself, before the others come back, once he can move again, once he doesn’t feel so pleasantly weak and satisfied.


End file.
